


Angsty Johnlock

by ForeverSherlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6301270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverSherlocked/pseuds/ForeverSherlocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a Johnlock that I am writing. I am warning you that it has multiple triggers and if suicide scenes, overdosing scenes, referenced sex (but no smut), and relationship trouble could trigger you, don't read this...<br/>This is my first story I have ever published. It is in progress.<br/>I would love feedback.<br/>I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angsty Johnlock

Sherlock never learned to say sorry... Whenever he offended or upset John, he would run after him, complimenting him... When that didn't work he would make John tea... In extreme circumstances (only the most extreme), he would venture out to buy the milk...

It was after a case, and he had yelled at John for distracting him, for just "not thinking..." John went and sulked in his armchair... Sherlock watched him, watched the creases appear on John's forehead as John scrunched his eyes closed, and tried not to cry... Sherlock wasn't supposed to feel emotion. His brother, Mycroft, had always warned him that emotions were weak... Alone is what he was... What he should be. Alone protects him, makes his brain function. Makes him work. But his mind palace had been invaded...

_John... John... John... Everyday, all the time... John... John... John... But, sentiment is a chemical defect, found in the losing side. I cannot love him... I will not love him..._

I bought the milk... I recited the compliments... I made him tea... He still didn't speak, didn't even look at me... By the end of the day, I realized I couldn't live without him... I couldn't do this alone.

"John, I'm sorry..."

"What did you say, Sherlock?"

"I'm sorry... I love you."

John tentatively crossed the room and Sherlock blushed a bright crimson.

"I'm sorry John, if you leave now, I understand..." John was a step away from Sherlock...

Sherlock shook his head, grabbed his coat and ran outside, tears falling from his eyes... No emotions. What was he thinking? He couldn't live with this pain. He ran into a back alley and took out a brick and brought out his secret heroin stash... He needed to escape. Alone is what he has. Alone protects him. But it wasn't clicking in his brain... He didn't want to be alone anymore... He wanted to be with John.

He could smell John as he started to prepare the needle... He could feel his presence, hallucinating John's arms around his waist, but when he turned, John wasn't there. Of course John wasn't there. He didn't love John. Love is a chemical imbalance found on the losing side. He couldn't love John. John was a colleague and nothing more than that. They would have never worked anyway.

As he inserted the needle into his arm, he thought he heard John's voice call his name... He thought he felt John's hands supporting him. But John was nowhere to be seen, and Sherlock's vision faded...

 

 

The bright lights stung his eyes. The crisp, white sheets covered his body... They felt stiff and unnatural. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be home... He wanted John.

The walls were too white. Too perfect. He was lost. Sherlock once said he would be lost without his blogger... And he was. His eyes roamed the room. _Nurse, female, mid-30s, failing romance, romance, romance, John, John, John. No. Focus._  
The doors swung open and slammed with a bang. Sherlock turned his head. It was John.

"What the hell, Sherlock? Why? You promised to never leave me. To never go again..." Sherlock started to cry, the tears falling down his face. John hugged him, and kissed his forehead, wiping the tears from his eyes...

"It's okay now... I'm here... It's okay..."

Sherlock clinged to John's jacket, never wanting to let him go... John held him and whispered in his ear how much he loved him... How he would never leave him...

When Sherlock was finally discharged from hospital, John threw him his coat and scarf and phone...

"A murder just came up... We need your expertise... But first I've got to do this..." John crashed his lips into Sherlock's... Sherlock stared at him...

"You told me once, Sherlock, that you weren't a hero... There were, I'll admit, times when I agreed with you... But, Sherlock, you're the best thing in my life... And I love you. Please never go. Because I don't know how I could live without you..."

"John Watson," Sherlock said, taking John's hands, "I love you... I used to say that love is a chemical defect found on the losing side... But if it is, I will happily lose if it means I can lose with you... I can't live without you, John. Please never leave..."

"I won't. I'll never leave you..."

Sherlock looked away for a second and turned back, "It's Anderson on the case, isn't it..."

"Yes, Sherlock. And you will try your hardest to be civil."

"Why? Whenever he speaks, he lowers the IQ of the whole street."

"Sherlock..." John said in a warning tone, "Please try to be polite."

"Actually John, let's not go... I'm out of hospital, I'm an out patient, see the paper... I have to go home..."

John smiled and hailed a taxi. He took Sherlock's hand and Sherlock recoiled, slightly surprised. He wasn't used to feeling things... When he reached for John's hand again, he was too late and John was already in the taxi.

 

 The taxi ride was silent... Not the beautiful silence of secret looks and thumping hearts, but the painful, cold silence, the silence where two people don't quite know where they stand.

Sherlock looked at John, who was staring out the window, watching the grimy streets of London pass by...

"What?" John snapped, "Why are you staring at me? What wrong did I do now? You don't seem to ever want to be around me, why are you staring at me now? Do you want me to walk home? Is my presence disturbing your mind palace? Yeah? Do you want me to move out, maybe? Do I distract you from your oh-so-important work?"

"No, John, I'm sorry... I'm sorry." John turned his head, and his cheeks were stained with tears. "I'm not good at explaining emotions, you must know that now, and I never want you to leave, I never have. You don't distract me... I love you... And I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry Sherlock...you just scared me so much and I've been very stressed lately...I love you" John said sympathetically

"I love you, John. I don't know what I would do without my blogger..." This time Sherlock leaned over and gently kissed John.

John had kissed a lot of people... Girls and boys alike. He knew the fireworks. He knew the breathless kisses. He knew the gentle kisses. But Sherlock's lips... They weren't fireworks. They weren't rolling oceans. They weren't experienced... But his chapped lips made John feel safe, happy, loved... All he wanted was to be with him, keep him safe and be in his company... Be in his arms, safe and sound, he never wanted to leave that taxi, he wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever.

But the taxi pulled up at 221B Baker Street and Sherlock pulled on John's wrist, leading him to the door... As soon as the door shut, Sherlock pushed John against a wall and kissed him again... They heard Ms. Hudson's footsteps and John pulled away, his cheeks flushed... Ms. Hudson eyed them both up and said "I knew it... I'll leave you both alone then, shall I? I was going to go to my friend's anyway..."

John just nodded, his face heating up and the blood rushing elsewhere too... Sherlock said, slightly horsely, that that was a good idea, and he hoped that Ms. Hudson would have a good time... Before Ms. Hudson had fully closed the door, Sherlock was kissing John again... He stopped to pull John up the stairs, unlocked the door, and pushed him inside... 

 

The ring of the phone cut through early morning sleepiness... Sherlock was curled up next to John, not really wanting to move, not needing a case anymore. He could never be bored again, too much to learn, to study. But, he picked up his phone and heard Anderson on the other end, almost screaming at him, crying and thanking god that Sherlock hadn't died... John was still asleep.

When John slept, his hair became all ruffled and his worry lines started to fade from his face. He looked content. Until the nightmares hit him. They had been happening more recently and Sherlock had no intention of waking him. John needed sleep. So Sherlock wrote a note, and left it on the kitchen table as he ran to grab his jacket and go back to solving crimes.

Some people claimed that Sherlock would be a good criminal. He certainly had the brainpower... But the only thing he had ever stolen were people's hearts and people's happiness.

And the case was back... The case he had solved, but failed to save. It was a woman, having marriage issues. He solved that their was domestic violence, but the woman pleaded to stay with her husband. The next day she was dead, killed by her husband.

He solved the case, never saved the woman...

John never heard... John would think him a monster. _And maybe that's what I am,_ he thought, _I'm sure most people would agree..._

Two hours later, John awoke and rolled over, feeling for Sherlock. He wasn't there...

_It's fine,_ thought John, _It was probably all just a dream anyway... He could never love a monster like me..._

John could still hear the gunshot as he fired... Still see the mother's face as she saw her son fall from an upstairs window... Still hear her cries... Still see the way she looked at him

_Monsters,_ they thought, _That's all I am... A monster._

 

When Sherlock got home, John was pacing, with a limp... Sherlock was concerned... When John was limping, there always was something seriously wrong.

"John, love..." He said, in a soothing tone, "What's going on."

John took one look at Sherlocks kind, concerned face and broke down... 

"Sherlock, you don't understand, you have to leave... Please... I'll hurt you... You'll suffer... Please, just let me go..."

John reached for the gun, lying on the table, tears drenching his face... Sherlock grabbed John's hand, his eyes filled with fear.

"John," he said, his voice firmer now, "We are all monsters in some ways. But what you did in the past doesn't define you..."

John just shook his head and whispered, "You don't understand..."

He fought against Sherlock, reaching for the gun. 

"Just let me die... Don't let me hurt you... Please..."

"John, I love you... Please, don't leave me... I can't live without you..." Sherlock was crying now, "John, no matter what you did in the past, I love you, and I will always love you..."

John sunk to the ground, having no strength left to fight...

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so so sorry... I love you too."

Sherlock sunk down next to him and just held him... They stayed like that for a while, crying softly, the gun still lying on the table, just in reach...

 

 


End file.
